


Cooking Means Love (And I'm Starving)

by Tahlruil



Series: Loving You Is Easy (It's Life That's Hard) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stony Bingo, Stony Bingo 2017, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, brief mention of underage sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: There might be a lot of different ways to show someone you love them, but only one has ever really mattered to Tony.For the 'intimacy without sex' prompt.





	Cooking Means Love (And I'm Starving)

**Author's Note:**

> I _finally_ started this round of Stony Bingo! I've only had the card since frigging January. I'm so far behind. T_T
> 
> This one... got away from me a little. Like, I knew where I wanted to go, but I started writing and it went somewhere else. I still actually really like it, but it probably doesn't stick as close to the prompt as I'd meant to. XD I messes with ages a little bit and some timeline stuff - Rhodey's a couple more years older than Tony, Tony graduates at 18 instead of 17... little stuff like that.
> 
> I would love some comments, if you'd like to give them. <3

When Tony Stark was five years old, he met a girl.

She had the prettiest black hair he’d ever seen, and when he told her so she giggled, blushed, and pushed him into a mud puddle. After that they were inseparable in the afternoons for almost four months. Her father was the head gardener for the grounds, so they spent most of their time rambling outside where Eva showed him all the best places to catch frogs.

Eva also had a tin of cookies for them to share every day. They were usually a little burnt and sometimes they were shaped kinda funny, but they were still the best cookies he’d ever had.

“’Cause my daddy makes ‘em for me with love,” she explained once with the cheeky grin of hers that always made Tony smile back. “Mama’s cookies looked nicer, but she’s gone to the angels now so daddy makes ‘em instead. He lets me measure the sugar sometimes,” she added proudly.

“Whoah…” Tony was allowed to do a lot of things in Howard’s workshop, but nobody’d ever trusted him with _sugar_ before.

“Yup! And we use mama’s recipe, ‘cause she loved us both lots. Daddy says that she used to say that cooking was the bestest way to show somebody you love ‘em, and sharing food is the bestest way to make friends.”

“You _are_ my best friend,” he agreed with a small frown. It all felt sorta true, because you didn’t share cookies with someone you didn’t like. And he didn’t know much about cooking, but it seemed harder than putting a circuit board together. So if you did it for somebody, he guessed you did probably have to love them.

“What does your mama cook for you?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer her question. Tony’d just had too many cookies, that was all. His stomachache didn’t have anything to do with what she’d asked or the heaviness in his heart. He was still pretty happy when she never asked again, even if he’d run away with tears in his eyes only because his stomach hurt so bad.

Maria Stark didn’t cook.

That didn’t mean she didn’t love him though. She was just busy. That was why she smelled like perfume instead of cinnamon and apples and _home_. That smell was Ana Jarvis, who gave him floury hugs and sometimes snuck him little treats if he pouted just right. She was the one who cooked all his favorites for him, but she didn’t love him more than his mother did. Maria was just… busy, and so was Howard, so maybe cooking was the _bestest_ way to show love, but It wasn’t the only way. He hoped not, at least.

After Howard Stark gave him a black eye for ‘associating with those below his station’, Tony Stark said goodbye to a girl.

He did it with a small apple tart that he’d asked Ana to make. She’d ignored his tears and let him measure the sugar when he asked. It didn’t make him feel much better, but even if he couldn’t play with Eva anymore he still liked her a lot. They both cried after he told her he wasn’t allowed to be her friend, and she insisted he share the tart with her because they’d _always_ be friends even if they weren’t allowed to hang out.

The head gardener at the Stark mansion snuck Tony cookies for two years, until he went to boarding school and the gardener and Eva moved away.

~.~.~

When Tony Stark was fifteen years old, he met a boy.

Drunk and miserable but smiling so no one would know it, he’d asked the boy if he wanted to fuck. Tony was too young and too smart and too _everything_ for MIT and he knew it. Everyone else knew it too. He’d learned quick that people only liked him when he was buying them things or letting them have sex with him. The boy’s name was James Rhodes, and he was in three of Tony’s classes. He was smart and funny and always smiled at him. He _desperately_ wanted James to like him, but he’d already given someone else his wallet to buy pizza and more beer for the party, so all he had to offer was sex.

James looked horrified at the question, and Tony wanted to die. Or at least he did until James took him by the hand and then to his dorm room. He didn’t make Tony take off his clothes or ask him to buy anything. No, James Rhodes sat him down and made him the worst soup he’d ever tasted. Tony still ate every bite, because cooking someone food meant love, and he’d never be so thoughtless as to waste a drop of love from anyone.

James became Rhodey became platypus or sour patch. They never fucked, and he got mad if Tony bought him anything that was ‘too much’. He was Tony’s best friend, and they regularly cooked each other crappy food on shitty hotplates. Realizing how much that meant to him, Rhodey took Tony home one Thanksgiving to Mama Rhodes, who stuffed him full of more good food than even Ana Jarvis ever had. He fell in love with Rhodey’s family and spent as much time there as he could.

Whenever he visited, she taught him how to cook something new. Tony had once shyly asked to measure out the sugar for a batch cookies she was making. He couldn’t do more than that but he’d wanted to help, because cooking meant love and he _loved_ the Rhodes family – they were everything he’d always wanted from his own. Mama Rhodes, teary, had promised to show him how to do a _lot_ more… and she did.

When James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes announced it was time to start his deployment, Tony Stark said goodbye to a boy.

He did it with a dinner he and Mama Rhodes cooked together. All of Rhodey’s favorites were there, because Tony knew how he’d felt whenever Ana remembered what his were. Tony basted and chopped and mixed and seasoned, pouring every bit of the love he felt for his platypus into every dish. Mama Rhodes didn’t ignore his tears – she swept him up into a warm, floury hug that reminded him of Ana and _home_.

“I’m scared too,” she whispered in his ear, voice full of emotion. “And we’re both gonna miss my boy something fierce, so we gotta stick together, you hear me?”

Rhodey didn’t cry while they shared dinner, but he came close. He made promises he might not be able to keep about always coming home, then made ones he could about staying in contact with everyone. He and Tony both promised that they’d always be best friends, even if they didn’t see each other all the time. Their friendship would change – they knew that, of course they did – but this goodbye wasn’t really an end.

Mama Rhodes issued Tony a standing invitation to every holiday meal and never minded when Tony would show up completely at random, hungover and miserable, asking to learn another dish to cook.

~.~.~

When Tony Stark was seventeen years old, he fell in love with a girl.

He told her she had the prettiest smile he’d ever seen, and she giggled, blushed, and kissed him sweetly. It was the first kiss he’d ever had that didn’t come with a demand for _more_ than kissing, and for the next ten months they were nearly inseparable. Angela was smart, shy and sweet, and she built things that left Tony in awe and inspired to do some building of his own. They didn’t share workshop time often, because she said it was the quickest way to drive a new relationship into the ground, but they always shared their finished projects and often bounced ideas off each other.

Three month in, they started cooking for each other regularly. He made them breakfast, because Angela liked to sleep in while he found sleep annoying and inefficient. She made dinner during the week, because whenever she did Tony actually remembered to leave the workshop and come home. On the weekends they cooked dinner together, laughing and kissing and sharing their thoughts and dreams.

Cooking meant love, and they were both crazy about each other, even though it was something they hadn’t expected. She was surprised at how easily he gave up the partying, the drinking and the drugs. He was surprised someone so _good_ and so _sweet_ wanted anything to do with him. Angela believed in him, encouraged him to think beyond Howard’s vision for Stark Industries. Robotics was the future, and they both knew it. She was the first person to tell Tony that he didn’t have to make weapons to be successful, and she held him and stroked his hair when he cried in relief.

As finals approached and they both got busier in their respective workshops, they still cooked for each other. Meals weren’t as regular and sure they didn’t always get to eat _together_ , but they still knew that cooking for someone was the bestest way to show you loved them. It was such an important thing to remember when things were so stressful and hectic, so they packed each other lunches and left sappy notes in with the food as well, or made surprise ‘shop visits with homemade snacks in hand. Tony had never been so _happy_ , and he was sure that after graduation he’d need to start looking at rings. They were young but in love, and he thought they could go all the way if given the chance.

When a journalist hungry for a story published one that wasn’t true, Tony Stark said goodbye to a girl.

He did it over the remains of an angel food cake and coffee, the later salty on his tongue from tears. Love wasn’t enough, and Angela couldn’t handle this aspect of his life. Tony couldn’t promise that no one would do this to her again; he couldn’t promise that journalists and the media would leave her alone. He was a public figure, so everyone felt entitled to pieces of his life. They wanted to know who he was seeing, who had lured him away from the parties and the drinking and the drugs. They wanted that tied into a scandal, and they wanted reasons that she wasn’t good enough for him.

Even though he would sue this journalist into oblivion, the damage had been done. Her picture had been published and her phone number had been discovered by other ‘news’ outlets, and the story had been full of unflattering lies that the public ate up. She was being harassed and whispered about on campus, her parents were concerned, and Rhodey was threatening to come home and beat the shit out of everyone who said anything bad about her. Angela couldn’t handle this, and Tony couldn’t promise it would never happen again. They both cried as they ended everything between them, and then the girl he’d thought he would marry walked away, taking his heart with her.

For a week and a half, Tony stayed as drunk as he could and created a robot that wouldn’t ever want to leave him.

~.~.~

When Tony Stark was twenty-three years old, he started to hate a boy.

He looked in the mirror and saw a man who was hollow. He drank, partied and played, because if he didn’t he’d have to remember he made his living designing better ways to kill people. Howard was dead but his legacy lived on, and it was stronger than Tony’s will to defy it. So he went through the motions, created deadly weapons that he hated, and did everything he could to just forget. There was nothing there to love, because there was so little there at all.

So Tony stopped cooking for himself, because cooking _meant_ love. Most of the time he barely ate anything at all, because part of him thought he didn’t really deserve to. Sleep turned from annoying and inefficient to something that only invited nightmares, so he avoided it as much as he could. He ran on coffee and fumes, because he hadn’t earned anything else.

When a silly ‘bot tried his absolute best to make him a smoothie, Tony Stark tried to learn to take care of a boy.

Cooking meant love… and somehow Dum-E knew that. He knew it and was trying his hardest to provide, which left Tony feeling incredibly ashamed of himself. The ‘bot was like a child, and he shouldn’t be so worried about his creator that he tried to feed him.

So even though he still wouldn’t cook for himself – or anyone else but his sour patch, not any more – he found other ways to eat. There was takeout and prepackaged snacks and restaurants. He could get by with those, because there wasn’t any love for him in them so they were acceptable. Tony stopped going to the Rhodes’ for holidays, because food from Mama Rhodes was filled with love and he was an empty husk, not the boy she’d known. He made excuses and only dropped by for quick visits, because anything else hurt too damn much.

But even as he lost more and more of himself to the weapons, the parties, the booze and the drugs, Dum-E kept making him smoothies that kept just a little bit of hope alive in his heart.

~.~.~

When Tony Stark was thirty, Steve Rogers fell in love with _him_.

He told Tony after they’d spoken several times that he had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen, and Tony gaped, blushed and ran away. Steve let him go but refused to leave his life completely – not that Tony actually wanted him to anyway. He was still at Tony’s favorite coffee shop every morning, and every morning he smiled at Tony like Steve thought he was everything. Even if Tony had a harder time talking back now that he knew Steve liked him, the other man still kept speaking to him.

“Hey Tony. Can I buy your coffee today?”

“I know you don’t want to give me your number and that’s fine, but here’s mine if you ever need anything. Anything at all Tony.”

“Tony! It’s freezing outside – where is your coat? Here, take mine before you leave again… I think it’ll fit, even if I am a shrimp. I have a sweatshirt in my bag and you look awful cold.”

“You seem tired. Is everything okay Tony?”

“I don’t care _what_ that dumb newscaster said. You’re more than some ‘Merchant of Death’.”

“Thanks for letting me get your coffee today Tony. And, um… do you… there’s this art show that I… uh. You know what? Never mind.”

“Tony, you _came_. I didn’t think… I didn’t even tell you I was showing, and… are those cookies for me?” They were, and despite his better judgement Tony had baked them himself for Steve, because he liked the guy an awful lot even if he was terrible at talking back.

Steve Rogers was sweet, smart, funny, and ready to fight the whole damn world for the right cause. He was a hundred and twenty pounds of sass and good intentions, and Tony was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Only the flame didn’t burn him up and leave nothing but ashes behind the way he’d been afraid it would. Instead it kept him warm and made him feel something other than empty for the first time in… well. Years.

He was cooking again, even if it still wasn’t for himself. When he stopped by the Rhodes’ house, sheepish and apologetic and actually _ate_ something, Mama Rhodes started to cry. Then he asked her to teach him how to make chicken cacciatore (Steve’s favorite, he’d found out a few weeks before) and she turned her eyes to the heavens and thanked the Lord that he’d come to his senses. Tony thought she was being a little over dramatic, but her hugs still felt like _home_ , so he didn’t mind too much.

Tony couldn’t give up all the parties – the fancy ones he hated the most were for business or charities, so he had to keep going – but he could give up most of them. Thankfully he’d given up the drugs a few years ago, or he didn’t think Steve would’ve ever given him the time of day. The drinking he scaled back, and he worked to try and find a balance in his life again – he wanted to be more like the guy Steve saw in him. In working to get there, he found things that he’d forgotten he liked about himself. He remembered who he was and who he’d wanted to be, back before he was crushed under the weight of his dead father’s legacy. With that memory came the hope that maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could still be that person, and maybe he didn’t have to be the man he hated to look at in the mirror. That man, he’d realized, reminded him far too much of Howard Stark.

“I don’t think I want to make weapons anymore,” he told Steve one morning, tucked away in a corner at the table that had somehow become theirs. It was early enough that there was only one other patron in the shop, but Tony still kept his voice soft – he didn’t want this leaking to the press. Steve seemed to hear how nervous and scared he was by the admission, because he reached out and covered Tony’s hands with his own, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“I think you should make what you love. Do you love making weapons.”

“You know I don’t. But Howard-”

“Fuck Howard. What do _you_ want to make?”

“I… know the answer to that, but Steve… it’s not going to be pretty if I shut down weapons development. Things are going to get rough, and a lot of people are going to abandon ship. I don’t know what’ll happen.”

“Tony, you should do what makes you happy. I know it’ll be hard work to get there, but the people who matter will stick with you until you do.” Steve blushed with his whole body, Tony was pretty sure, and it was adorable. “ _I’ll_ be here for you, no matter what you decide.”

The day SI stopped developing weapons, Tony snuck way from the prying eyes of the press and the demands of his furious board to make a delivery. Steve rented a small studio space to work in, one that Tony had been invited to after he’d surprised the man at that art show Steve’d been too shy to actually invite him too. He brought freshly cooked chicken cacciatore and a bottle of wine with him, and Steve welcomed him a look of wonder and delight. On hearing what Tony had announced five hours earlier (he’d been in an art fog, so the news hadn’t reached him like it had the rest of the world), he hugged Tony tight and said that he was proud of him.

They kissed for the first time that night, and it was the first kiss he’d had in a long time that actually _meant_ something. Tony hadn’t felt so happy or hopeful since he was seventeen and in love for the first time. Steve didn’t seem to notice that Tony only picked at his food, but the blond did enjoy it himself so Tony kept cooking for him. While public debate raged over SI’s new direction, he tuned it out as best he could, focusing instead on building a top-notch robotics division and learning all of Steve’s favorite foods. He regularly brought things he’d cooked to Steve’s studio, doing his best to keep that and their other dates out of the public eye and the news. It wasn’t until the blond began worrying that Tony was ashamed of their relationship that Tony admitted he was just trying to protect Steve from the media – he didn’t know what he’d do if they managed to scare his tiny terror off.

When Steve Rogers angrily informed him that he would be sticking around no matter what anybody said and no matter how many pictures or lies anyone published, Tony Stark hoped he wouldn’t ever have to say goodbye to this boy.

Cooking for someone would always mean love to Tony, but Steve didn’t seem to realize that. He was happy to eat whatever Tony made and scolded him for not eating more himself, but he didn’t understand the significance. He started to, a little, when he met Rhodey for the first time and Tony cooked them both dinner.

“Tones… you’re cooking again?” he asked, brows arched and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Never stopped cooking for you, sour patch,” Tony returned sweetly, trying to tell his idiot best friend to shut up with the look in his eyes. It didn’t work, or maybe months in the desert had fried Rhodey’s brain so much that he no longer understood Tony-talk.

“Yeah, but you haven’t cooked for anyone _but_ me since Angela. But here Steve sits, and he doesn’t seem surprised by the fact that you can cook.”

“Uh, should I be?” Steve was shooting a bewildered look Tony’s way. He, in the meantime, was doing his best not to blush or meet either man’s eyes.

“Well it’s just that most people don’t know. I mean, my mom and the rest of my family does, and Angela, but I think that might be it. So I’m just… surprised. Happy, but surprised. I didn’t know you guys were serious.”

“ANYWAY,” Tony broke in desperately and too loudly, very much not wanting to have this conversation with Steve while his best friend sat there and mocked him with his eyebrows. “How’s the military taking the fact that they can no longer buy Stark weapons?” Where Steve accepted the change of subject with grace, Rhodey looked disgruntled. Still, they managed to get through the evening without incident, and while Steve sent him curious looks from time to time, he didn’t bring it up after the fact.

They went to Thanksgiving dinner at the Rhodes’, where Mama Rhodes immediately stole Steve and took him out ‘shopping’. Tony wasn’t allowed to accompany them, so he couldn’t help but worry while he busied himself in the kitchen. On returning, Steve had a knowing look in his eyes that still held a hint of wonder and awe, like he couldn’t believe whatever it was that he’d learned because it was just too good to be true. He stayed close to Tony for the rest of the night, filled Tony’s plate for him whenever it emptied, and gave Tony the sweetest, most perfect kiss he’d ever had when they separated to sleep in two different bedrooms. Not only did Mama Rhodes have strict rules about such things, Steve also wanted to take things slow when it came to sex – Tony didn’t mind at all, especially because he privately suspected Steve was a virgin and very nervous to do much more than kiss.

Besides, cooking meant a hell of a lot more than sex to Tony. In the past he’d sleep with just about anyone, after all. His body was a commodity that he’d used as a bargaining tool in both his personal life and in business. It would be different with Steve – everything was different with Steve – but the fact remained that Tony Stark had never seen sex as anything all that special. Cooking was love, and Steve Rogers ate everything he made even without knowing what Tony was offering along with every dish.

When a blushing Steve Rogers showed up at SI a week after Thanksgiving to bring Tony the burnt grilled cheese sandwich and a too-thick bowl of tomato soup he’d made for lunch, Tony Stark knew that soon he was going to marry this boy.

Even if the food wasn’t very good, Tony Stark ate every bite, because he knew love when he saw it, and he would _never_ be so thoughtless as to waste it.


End file.
